


Legs

by battle_cat



Series: Fury Road Ficlets [15]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Ficlet, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: He has to admit, he has a thing for her thighs.





	Legs

**Author's Note:**

> Based on YoukaiYume's smutty arts.

He has to admit, he has a thing for her thighs.

It always feels a bit strange, to admit he likes a certain part of her, because she isn’t _parts_. There’s a flicker of discomfort in thinking of her that way, because she isn’t a thing, because he knows at least the outlines of what she’s been through. He’d knock the teeth out of anyone who said out loud some of the things he thinks about her body—except he knows she’d get there first.

And, truly, he likes all of her. When he’s away from the Citadel he finds himself missing the most banal physical details: the tendons in her wrist, the precise arch of her eyebrow, the scar from a bullet graze on her left bicep. But even more, he misses her rare laughter, her precision in everything she does, the way she commands loyalty without even realizing it. He misses her forbidding hardness, and the way she can let it fall away for him.

But…he also finds himself watching as she swings effortlessly onto a bike, as she hikes her knee up high onto the doorframe of the new rig and levers herself onto the roof. Her body is strong all over, forged into something practical and lean, but her legs have taken years of climbing on vehicles, making up with power and flexibility what she couldn’t match in upper body strength with the men around her.

When they fuck, and when they grapple, she likes being on her back, likes it more than he would have expected, until he realizes she’s strong enough to flip his whole weight off her in that position if she can use her legs, and flexible enough to choke him between her thighs if he gives her an opening. Her legs wrap around his waist when he’s buried deep inside her, holding them together and urging him on. On top of him she is no less intoxicating, the muscles in her ass and lower belly working as she rides him.

In the car, he finds his hand too often drifting to the inside of her knee, even when she’s driving—no, _especially_ when she’s driving—sliding up the inside of her thigh while she pretends she’s not paying attention except he can see her biting the inside of her cheek. 

In the garage it’s always a slow-burning game, taunting each other with looks until one of them snaps. Today it’s him, and they end up back in her room, her legs pressing into his sides as he hefts her onto the worktable. She squirms as he tugs off her leathers and boots, laughs when he sits on the bench and swings her legs over his shoulders. The laugh becomes a sigh when he puts his mouth to the tender flesh on the inside of her thigh. She is so soft there, the skin unscarred and warm, covering just the slightest bit of plumpness on her lean frame. He sucks slowly down the length of her thigh, slow enough she twines her fingers into his hair and gives an impatient tug. He hums, and then he gives himself a taste of the wetness that’s been building up between her thighs for hours now.

She’s loud, often, when they fuck, but today she’s all breathy sighs and gasps as he licks and sucks, disarmed little noises until the very end, when she’s crying out and shaking, her legs quivering against his shoulders.

They catch their breath with his face pressed against the damp flesh of her inner thigh and her fingers stroking lazy patterns through his hair. After a moment he hears the leather creak of her unbuckling her prosthetic and the clank of the metal on the stone table. When he looks up at her she is flushed and smiling.

She slides into his lap, and then there’s kissing, and in a sloppy tangle of limbs they somehow end up on the bed, his pants shoved down enough to be getting on with, her back arching as he pushes into her from behind. Her leg is hitched up over his hip, and she groans approvingly when he hikes it up higher, his fingers digging into the sweaty crease of her knee until they both fall apart.

Afterward, they lie boneless and sticky on her mattress in the stifling heat of late afternoon. At some point she unlaces her leather bracer and tosses it aside, rolling over to tuck herself against him. A long leg drapes over his hip and he lets his fingers trail over her skin, tracing the hard curves of muscle, the gnarled scar that twists over her hip, the fine blondish-brown hair that shades into darker curls between her legs. Her eyes are closed, not truly asleep but dozing, trusting, as he slowly maps this particular bit of her landscape, etching details into the map of her body he keeps in his head.

She is strange about being told she’s beautiful, and he’s not very good at saying it anyway. Maybe, one day, he’ll figure out the right words, and she will feel safe enough to hear them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://fuckyeahisawthat.tumblr.com)


End file.
